


Once More to See You

by Anonymous



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Character Death, Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Guilt, Heartache, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Shinji Needs a Hug, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26695291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Kaworu doesn't-- didn't-- look like that. He looked normal, lean, and grave, as if he knew something you didn't. Maybe he did, Shinji thinks.
Relationships: Ikari Shinji/Nagisa Kaworu
Kudos: 58
Collections: anonymous





	Once More to See You

**Author's Note:**

> Shinji deals with the aftermath of killing Kaworu. Set post Kaworu death, pre-episode 26/End of Evangelion, maybe a lost scene from episode 25? Who knows. Enjoy :-)

Shinji Ikari sits alone in his bedroom once more, hugging his knees to his chest and leaning against the wall next to the window. The curved face of the moon through his curtains casts an unusual type of lighting in the room that he can't stand. He doesn't grasp why something like that irritates him so much. He supposes its something he acquired from his father, the nitpicky, the control-freak, the need for everything to be _alright_ \-- to be alright in his eyes. The uncomfortable yearning for comfort. He hasn't seen anyone for days, weeks even. He doesn't remember how much time has passed. There's only one thing on his mind: Kaworu. He's been thinking about the boy for a while now. He thinks of how he was there before, alive and in flesh and _beautiful_. He thinks of how he was there, and then he wasn't. He thinks,  
_was he even alive to begin with?_   
He doesn't really know how Angels work-- nobody does, he thinks. But Kaworu wouldn't say those things to him just because right? He wouldn't call him those nice things, and he wouldn't say those lovely things he does-- did. Angels, he thinks. What an appropriate name. The eldritch creatures, with twisting faces and bodies bathed in millions of ethereal lights. Kaworu doesn't-- didn't-- look like that. He looked normal, lean, and grave, as if he knew something you didn't. Maybe he did, Shinji thinks.  
  
And you slaughtered him.  
  
_What?_  
  
You killed him, he thinks. You shattered him with your hands. You crushed your sole lover with your _hands._ Will God forgive you-- no, will Kaworu forgive you?  
  
God, he hopes so.  
  
The inescapable, squeezing taunt of guilt haunts his every move; every time he closes his eyes he can recognize Kaworu's in his own. He can see his hands; he can feel his hands, how cold they are when they make their way down his arm to lace their fingers together. He can feel his EVA squeezing him. He can feel the space in between the hands of the cruel, partly mechanic beast becoming smaller and smaller. He wanted it. That's the worst part, the boy thinks, he _wanted_ it. How could anyone, let alone him, perceive him in such a light to _die_ for? If Kaworu were here, he'd inadvertently say something like "It's beautiful isn't it, how someone as small as you could cause such a great impact on me. Right, Shinji? " and Shinji would try to argue-- words of disapproval, of loathing and fear and hatred, but he wouldn't find the way to say them. He never could around Kaworu, he thinks. So he would merely say, "you're right, I guess it is. " And then the silver-haired boy would keep talking about all of the beautiful things in the world. All of the wonderful, vague things he would say that Shinji could never make sense of. And he would squeeze his calloused hands, and look up at him from his eyelashes, and the window would be open and Shinji would think, _Maybe this_ _is how it was supposed to turn out._ Kaworu would smile, and Shinji would say-- mostly to himself-- " _Maybe it'll all turn out okay if we can just stay like this forever._ " "That doesn't sound like a bad plan, Ikari." And the silver-haired boy would close his eyes.  
  
And Shinji would call, in the dead of night.   
"Kaworu?"

  
His hand clamps around his frail shoulder, trembling a little, before giving him a gentle shake.  
"Kaworu?"  
  
He impatiently shakes his shoulder harder. Kaworu's hand slides out of his, his long fingers are ice cold.   
  
_No._ He can feel it in his chest, heart beating too fast and it feels like he's going to puke.  
_No, no, no, no, no._ He's violently shaking the elder boy now, thrashing him around.  
  
"Please, Kaworu." He sits up, and with every passing second his throat feels heavier and heavier. Kaworu's frail body is limp against him, leaning awkwardly against Shinji like he weighs nothing. "Kaworu, _wake up!_ " He hasn't noticed the tears falling from his bleary eyes until he sights them on Kaworu's nightshirt, damp little spots all over his shirt. "Kaworu! **_Please!_ ** " He's screaming, violently thrashing Kaworu by the shoulders. " Kaworu! _Don't leave me, please don't leave me, please._ "He's trying to suppress the inhuman sounds that come from his throat, the violent, gurgly sobs that pour from his mouth. His head drops, squeezing Kaworu's hand with a vice. He clutches the body on his bed and holds him so tight he might've heard a bone crack. Kaworu's head droops to rest on his shoulder blade and Shinji desperately claws at the clothes of his back. "Please don't go, _please._ " His hoarse voice is cracking and the back of Kaworu's shirt is completely soaked. "Don't leave me alone, Kaworu. Don't leave me alone. "  
  
" _I love you, Kaworu, please don't leave me._"  
  
He wakes, jolting upward and wildly looking around to find himself in his disordered room, in his bed. He coughs, his raw throat desperately dry from choking on his own tears. The window is gaping, a cold breeze forcibly settles in the room, and he recognizes himself-- once again-- achingly and _utterly alone_.   
  
He screams into the night. The terrible misery settles on him; chokes him and forces him to trip and fall and look at what he runs aimlessly from, what he's been running from all this time.  
  
He sees Kaworus's lovely, endlessly wistful face and screams. Long and pained and brutal. He screams, and screams and screams until his voice produces no more sound. He throws his belongings to the floor, shelves and bookcases and whatever other small, precious items he has; he breaks and breaks and breaks until his knuckles are bloodied and raw and then, he falls. Dropping to his knees in the center of the room.   
  
And his head droops, and his face falls, and the tears stop, and he looks to the window, curtains thrashing wildly in the wind, and he thinks,

_You really are an angel, aren't you, Kaworu?_


End file.
